Dovakin, Dragonborn
by Gublyb
Summary: The throne of Skyrim lies empty, and the king of the rebellion is captured. In the distant west, the Provence if Valenwood is under threat from Thalmor. One elf escapes the injustice and flees to the last place anyone will ever look for him. He is the one they fear: Dovakin, The Dragonborn.
1. Origns

The Forrest was burning…

Antmial, roused from his sleep, watched in horror as bronze flames leaped from tree to tree, sending embers flying in all directions. In the early morning sun, the flames lit up the morning in a red inferno. Bosmer were fleeing in panicked terror, but just as many were trapped high above him, up at the top of the thick trunked trees.  
"Antmial! For the sake of Oblivion, help!"  
Antmial spun around and saw Tamar waving for his help. Her home tree was a blazing matchstick, the ancient brown wood scorched black. Springing up from the chair be had fallen asleep in, Antmial raised up his hands, and with practised skill, concentrated his internal magica resource.

Magic was, in general, frowned upon in Valewood. In a nation where a stray spark could lead to your entire home burning down, the most magic most wood elves learned was basic healing. Antmial, however, was a fully trained destruction mage, frost magic included. Holding out his hands and calling up the magic within him, he solidified moisture in the air into a physical form. Grunting with effort, he flung the mass of slush at the flames. With a hiss of quenched flames, the fire lessened, and with a few more splashes the fire was out. Antimer helped Tamar's children out of the blackened tree. It was a thick, proud trunk. It had to have been hundreds of years old, and now it had been lost to the fire. Whoever, or whatever, had done this had to pay.

Even as he turned, he saw that the few other mages amongst them were following his example, putting out the major fires and stamping out minor ones. All the Bosmer were working in unison, those who had no magic assisting those who did. Antimer's chest swelled with pride at his people's efficiency. It would seem, for now at least, the fire was done. Antmial jumped onto a large rock and, seeing the terrified Bosmer who were needing an explanation, raised his hands for quiet.

"Friends, today we have overcome great obstacle!" He shouted.  
There were sounds of general cheering from both the trees and the ground as more Bosmer gathered around.  
"It is a testament to our strength that we have quelled this inferno" he announced.  
More cheering, and some villagers coming down from the trees to listen.  
"But it has come to my attention that this was no natural burn! One amongst us saw fit to destroy, to desecrate our forest!" He yelled.  
The stink of magic had been obvious enough. Whoever had done it had high skill in magic at the very least, and was probably a trained mage. There were cries of outrage and indignity at the thought of any who would intentionally harm the forest. Antimer held up his hands in a placating manner.  
"Know this! We WILL find who did this! And when we do, we will show the…." Antimer trailed off, looking at the stranger who had stepped into the clearing.

A Thalmor.

His long, dark coat swung as he took long, measured steps towards the crowd. A wickedly sharp sword at his belt, glinting in the early morning sun. And, Antimer noticed, walking right out of the origin of the blaze. Slowly, person by person, they noticed him and shrunk back in fear.  
"Oh yes, exalted elder. Tell me more about what you will do when you catch the defiler" the man sneered, extinguishing a fireball in his gloved hand.

Antimer breathed deeply. The Thalmor were villainous, not one elf was in doubt of that, but to do such evil on this level…. It was unheard of. To physically attack a whole village was a new low, even for Aldreri.  
"You had no right!" He gasped. "No right at all!"  
The Thalmor grinned the grin of one who had absolute power, and was unafraid to use it.  
"On the contrary, elder" He snickered. "Under the terms of the Valewood surrender, I hold the supreme power to pursue enemies of state… " He gestured to the destruction around him "Through any means I see fit."  
Antimer ground his teeth in fury. The nerve of the Thalmor, using a corrupt piece of paper as grounds to torch an entire village!  
"And where, pray, are these enemies?" He spat out.  
The Thalmor agent looked to one of the trees, still slightly alight.  
"Several months ago, our intelligence discovered imperial spies in the Somerset isles. We have traced their movements here. Someone is hiding them" he snarled.  
As if on cue, several other Thalmor began ripping open doors and rifling through belongings. Already terrified families found themselves thrown out into the courtyard. Antimer's anger burned almost as hard as the fire. Thalmor bastards! Coming to his home, threatening his people, and accusing one of them of treason? The utter-  
"Sir." one of the Thalmor reported. "We have them."  
The commander grinned his knowing smirk.  
"Well then, I suppose we should give them a 'trial', hmm?"  
Antimer watched in horror as the Bluegrove family were dragged out of their home, along with three raged looking imperials. Thrown down hard onto the ground, the Thalmor guards quickly fastened their hands with cuffs. Morwen, the solo mother of the household, looked up at Antimer. "Elder… I am sorry" She gasped.  
Antimer continued to stare. The Thalmor commander walked forward and drew his sword. It was not difficult to see what he intended to use it for.  
Antmial stopped computing what was happening. He tried to notice small details. The blade was made of dragonbone, so it would have to be old. Second age, at least. It had a hand crafted hilt, carved with intricate patterns and pictures. The shimmering glow on it was in fact an enchantment. It was also moving towards the imperial's throats. With a dull swish, the Thalmor swung his blade sharply. The youngest Bluegrove child, Arwen, cried out in terror as there was a sickening sound of gore. Antimer risked looking up, just in time to see three imperial corpses fall backwards. The Thalmor commander grinned.  
"In the name of justice, your sentence has been delivered." He wiped the blood off his sword. "So say I, lord Rhetson of the Thalmor."  
Morwen cried out in fear as Rhetson once again raised his blade. Rhetson smiled victoriously. Antimer could only stare in horror, well aware of what the Thalmor would do if he interfered in any way.  
"As justice has been delivered to one, now it shall be delivered to all" Rhetson declared.  
He brought his blade down on Morwen.  
Antimer tried desperately to find a way to rationalise it. Now the Thalmor would leave them alone. If he just stayed still, it could all be over.

But even he could not suppresses his conscience.

He had left Tagorn and Arwen as orphans. Clanless, left to hunt alone, live alone. It would always be his fault, and whenever he saw them he would be reminded of his failure.  
It would always be his fault.  
But by not intervening, he had saved the village.  
"Satisfied now?" Antimer asked sorrowfully.  
Rhetson summoned a small ball of fire into His hand.  
"By the contrary, esteemed elder. There are still two amongst us who still require justice."  
Antimer looked around him, confused. Who else among them had commuted crime? Looking at Rhetson, Antimer followed his gaze, And his blood ran cold.  
"No… for the love of the divines, no…"  
Rhetson was smiling again, raising his sword towards the two Bluegrove children. "Oh yes, elder. Why did they not report their parents crime, if they themselves were not complicit?"  
Deep down, Antimer knew what this was about. This was the Thalmor reminding the Bosmer who was in charge. That they were always watching. And after this little display, they would return home to summer set. But if allowed this to happen…  
He'd rot in Oblivion for it.

"Please, my lord! They are just children!" he begged.  
Rhetson laughed, and held his sword above his head executioner style.  
"Watch carefully, Bosmer. Let this remind you what we do to those who defy us."  
Arwen sobbed, tears running down her cheeks. Antimer doubted that she truly understood what was about to happen. But Tagorn…  
The eldest Bluegrove was staring at Rhetson with raw, unbridled fury. Never blinking, never wavering, he stared straight into the eyes of his attacker. He was a fighter, and Antimer had had him lined up as a senior hunter eventually. And thanks to Antimer, both a young innocent and the future generation of his clan were about to be executed for no reason other than their mother taking pity.  
"No! I cannot allow this to continue!" Antimer bellowed.  
Rhetson turned to him, a bemused look on his face. He pointed his blade at the elder.  
"And what exactly are you going to do about it, old man? We are the Thalmor, and we uphold the justice of the Aldreri Dominion." Rhetson touched the tip of his sword to Antimer's chest.  
Antimer felt the Magica in the air around him. Felt the raw powers flowing around Rhetson. Saw the not insubstantial power of the other Thalmor. In a straight fight, he and all his village would be crushed. Antimer stepped back in defeat, and Rhetson turned to faces the children. "May the afterlife judge you well, traitors." he sneered.  
Antimer's mind raced. If he tried anything, the Thalmor would be on him in an instant. Any substantial spell would alert them to his intentions. So, he would have to cheat.

With a small flick of his fingers, Antimer summoned a small ball of superheated fire above Tagorn's handcuffs. With barely a sound, he incinerated the link between them. Tagorn was now free. Tagorn, feeling the heat on his hands, looked over to Antimer, who silently nodded in return.  
"Come, boy. Face your end face to face!" Rhetson commanded.  
Tagorn looked up at Rhetson with his dark amber eyes. His fingers curled around a loose rock. Antimer held his breath as Rhetson began to swing his blade.

Tagorn brought his hand around and smashed it into Rhetson's face.

Blood spurted off of Rhetson's cheek. Dropping his sword with a scream of pain, he clutched at his ruined eye. Antimer noted with amusement that none of the other Thalmor stopped to help him. Obviously Rhetson was not well liked even among his own kin. Rhetson gave a cry of fury.  
"Kill the boy!"  
Obviously thinking that Tagorn had somehow escaped on his own, they were not expecting him to step in. So he had the advantage of surprise…

Antimer pulled up a ward just in time to save Tagorn and his sister from a firey demise. The air around him was crackling with unchained magic as all manner of spells were tossed his way. Antimer looked down at Tagorn.  
"Well don't just stand there, Tagorn! Run!" Antimer shouted.  
Tagorn ran full pelt down the path, towards the stables. He was a good lad, he'd survive. Antimer faced back towards the attacking Thalmor.  
Time for some revenge.  
Forming a large fireball and tossing it at the tightly bunched Thalmor, he quickly followed with a few well aimed icicle spikes at their unarmoured heads.  
Half the Thalmor still stood.  
While they were stunned, he began charging an electrosphere in his left hand while freezing them solid with his right.  
Four Thalmor remain standing.  
He quickly tossed in his electrosphere, stunning those Thalmor who still stood.  
No more opponents. The encounter had taken less than thirty seconds.  
His magical reserves were completely drained, but he had still won. He kneeled down to where Arwen was cowering.  
"Come, child. We must leave." he whispered.  
Arwen simply stared at him.  
"Arwen? We must go, we need to catch up to your brother." Arwen wasn't staring at him, he realised. She was staring past him, at something over his shoulder….  
Rhetson's blade pierced straight through his chest.

How could he have been so stupid? Antimer collapsed backwards onto his back. He could already feel blood loss setting in. Antimer called on his healing. He had to protect Arwen…  
To his horror, Antimer found he was out of magica. With no energy left to heal himself, his vision began to dim.  
"Please…" he begged. "Spare… Arwen…"  
Rhetson kneeled down over him, blood covering his left eye.  
"Oh, no need to worry. I make a point of executing all the perpetrators at once, and besides…" He grabbed Arwen's arm. "I seem to have a most excellent hostage right here with me."  
Rhetson strode away, Arwen in tow. He turned to his troops, who were beginning to recover.  
"Burn it down. All of it." he snarled.  
Lord Rhetson of the Thalmor marched off, hostage in tow and holding a cloth over his blinded eye.

After a few days, the bounty on the imperial spies was replaced with a new warrant.

TAGORN BLUEGROVE WANTED FOR ASSAULT ON THALMOR OFFICERS, ARSON OF VALEWOOD HOMES AND THE MURDER OF VILLAGE ELDER ANTMIAL HUNTER.  
CAPTURE ALIVE, AT ALL COSTS.

And in the eastern corner of Valenwood…  
Homes were destroyed. People killed on the streets.

The forest was burning….  



	2. Honour Among Thieves

It was a good day to be a thief.  
This thought was most definitely in Aldj's head as he walked down the street. Merchants casually left their merchandise on open display, where swift fingers might snatch the odd apple. Jewelers had their treasure in laughably easy to open display cabinets, and those who were silly enough to be distracted by a staged brawl up the road deserved to have their jewels taken. It was a new year, and the latest batch update of Bosmer immigrants had just come of the boat from Valewood, and apparently there was no such thing as theft over there, based on how they locked their doors.

Yes, definitely a good time for thievery.

And there was no better thief than him. Aldj cut into a crowd full of people. Pressed up against them, he could feel the exact location of all of their purses, and which of them were suitable for taking…

Subtlety reaching down, he quickly slit off a particularly bulging purse from a fat man who apparently hadn't got the message that there were thieves about. Slipping the weighty purse into his pocket, Aldj disappeared back into the crowd.

He managed to get quite a few more coin bags before the day was up. His loot bag was bulging, and Aldj was anxious to examine his spoils in more detail. But not in the street, because a dark elf rifling through a bags of gold was pretty much a dead giveaway. So, with his bag full of swag he ducked into his customary alleyway to count up his coin. And not just any alleyway…  
Due to the uniform construction a of all new Thalmor-Approved buildings, one thing you could always count on was a dark alley way on every street. And really, every thief worth his salt had his own alleyway to inspect and hide loot. Aldj was no exception. This particular alleyway had several old pipes running through it, remnants from an age where the building had been an alchemy lab. While providing an excellent hiding spot for his collection of ill gotten gains, in a pinch they also provided a quick route to the rooftops if he was ever caught (Not that he ever was, of course). And of course, being an old part of the city, the Thalmor had not interest in, say, checking an old rusted bronze pipe to see if it was loose, and also may have a lifetime supply of gems in it. Smiling from a good days work, Aldj opened his sack and began to count up his gold.

CLANG

The sound rang out from further down the alley, well into the dark shadows that covered the rear wall. What the hell was that?

CLANG

Once was an accident, twice was normally dangerous in his opinion. Drawing his orcish dagger (A lucky find from a Kaijat trade caravan), Aldj descended further into the gloom.

CLANG

A figure was now visible to him, hunched over a rusted control valve. Aldj watched, bemused, as the figure proceeded to slam his wrists against the valve. If this was a Thalmor trap, it was certainly the strangest he had seen.

CLANG

Creeling closer, it became apparent that the stranger was not., in fact, trying to break his wrists, but instead trying to break off some Thalmor cuffs attached to his arm. He was young, but not a child. More a young adult. He had dark brown hair, and definitively pointed ears. He was wearing common farming clothes, but for some reason had no shoes on.  
Alarm bells began to go off in Aldj's head. Strange elf in his alley, oddly dressed and trying to play victim? Yeah, probably not legit. Aldj cleared his throat to get the elf's attention.

As the elf spun around, all concept that the man was a spy vanished. Dirty face, amber coloured eyes, small tribal war paint… wood elf all the way.  
And the Thalmor, no matter how bad things got, never employed wood-elves. Which meant he was in this alley, acting odd and trying to break out of Thalmor cuffs for a good reason.  
The thought did not reassure him.

The wood-elf simply stared at him, so Aldj decided to make first contact.  
"Those cuffs won't come off by force, you know" he tried.  
He was met with stony silence. Eyes continued to scrutinise his face. He tried again.  
"Uh, hello? Look, those things are made of tempered steel. You'd need a blacksmith to get 'em off." he informed the elf.  
Finally, the Bosmer decided to speak.  
"Then how do I get out of these?" he asked Aldj grinned. Ah, to be young, innocent and not know how to lockpick. Pulling out his trusty pick, he knelt down to the Thalmor cuffs.  
"All you need is a lockpick, some luck and a kitchen utensil to force the lock with, and…." Aldj clicked open on of the cuffs.  
"And then you're free" he announced.  
The elf kept a blank face on. Aldj sighed.  
"Well? A thank you would be nice. Y' know, for getting you outta your cuff? "  
The elf nodded slowly.  
"Thank you… for helping" he mumbled.  
The elf shifted his other hand around, still with the other half of handcuffs attached to it.  
"May I have a go? At unlocking my cuff?" he asked.  
Aldj smiled. So the elf wasn't exactly innocent….  
"Sure. Try it" Aldj handed the picks over.  
Aldj watched as the elf twiddled with the pick, trying to pry it open. He wouldn't. Thalmor locks were among the most secure out there, even he had difficulty cracking them. He'd let the kid have his fun, and then help hi-

Click.

Aldj stared in astonishment at the Bosmer. Lying in his palm, open, was one Thalmor cuff. The elf handed Aldj's lockpicks back to him. A random urchin of the street who could open Thalmor cuffs? It was insane. Impossible. The guild would want to see this…  
"What did you say your name was, kid?"  
The elf grinned.  
"Tagorn. And I'm hardly a kid. " he replied.  
Aldj shook his head in wonder.  
"Yeah, well Tagorn, there are some people I know who would really like to meet you…"

Aldj led Tagorn through the back ally's, under the bridge and down to the old cistern. Opening the well concealed trapdoor, he motioned for Tagorn to jump down. After he did, Aldj followed him down into the Hideaway.

When the Thalmor remade the capital of Summerset, a lot of the city was left behind. Some of it was hidden basements, others the infamous alleyways. But by far the biggest hidden space was the sewer.  
Abandoned by the Thalmor in favour of more modern plumbing, the sewers had entrances all over the city. Its tunnels were extensive and, once you cleared out a century worth of crap, were quite sanitary.  
It was home to the unofficial Summerset Isles branch of the thieves guild.  
Aldj led Tagorn along the tunnels, twisting and turning down enough side passages and junctions to lose anyone who didn't know exactly where they were going. Climbing a service ladder and opening a disguised door, the duo found themselves in the central antechamber.  
A domed roof went up high above their heads, ending in a small circle of light where the sun shone through. The chamber was half submerged in water, which had multiple bits of junk floating in it. Some of the larger bits had been levelled off to form platforms, and the several of the largest had been lashed together to form a central platform. Guiding Tagorn carefully along the rickety platforms (you did not want to know what lived in the water) they eventually reached the main platform. Aldj stepped forward.  
"Criven! Grace! T'tholn! Get the hell out here you lazy skeevers!" he shouted.  
At first there was no reply, but then, as if by magic, a figure slunk out of the shadows. His face was heavily scarred, and one of his pointed ears was almost completely gone.  
"Aldj. You return, and with more in tow" the Bosmer stated.  
Aldj laughed.  
"Relax, Criven. This kid here's got a good head on his shoulders, and a natural knack for lockpicking. He's staying, so there's no need to go all creepy on him"  
Tagorn looked curiously at Aldj.  
"Am I now?" he questioned.  
Firm footsteps came up behind Aldj.  
"Yes, is he now?" a voice mimicked.  
Aldj turned around to see a tall, elegant Altmer dressed in simple mage robes.  
"Grace! Good to see you again!" he grinned.  
Grace was not smiling.  
"Seriously Aldj? You bring in another kid off the street, after what happened last time?" she demanded.  
Aldj held up his hands in mock surrender. Last time hadn't gone well, admittedly (How was he supposed to know the kid was a spy) but this time it would go better.  
"Hey, this ones different. Kids a natural lockpick, and besides, the Thalmor never use Bosmer! He's not a spy."  
Tagorn realised what he was being accused of.  
"I'm not working for those… bloody bastards" he spat.  
Grace remained unconvinced. She leered disdainfully at Tagorn, and walked off.  
"He's on you Aldj! He's your problem." she called.  
Tagorn spat as she stalked off to her little bundle of driftwood. Aldj noticed, frowning.  
"Might wanna loose that racism, kid. Not all Altmer are Thalmor, you know" he chided.  
Tagorn shuffled uncomfortably. Aldj shrugged. The kid would learn. Suddenly, Aldj noticed a small ripple behind Tagorn in the water. "Well, there is one exception to that. Argonians are nothing but mean, dastardly bastards, full stop." he joked.  
The massive Argonian that had just slipped out of the water behind Tagorn sighed.  
"Very funny, Aldj" T'tholn the Argonian thundered.  
Tagorn spun around, shocked at the sudden appearance of the amphibious humanoid. T'tholn laughed at his surprise.  
"Never mind him boy, private joke. Welcome to the thieves guild." he laughed, before vanishing back beneath the murky waters of the cistern.  
Aldj grinned. By all accounts, it was a good reaction from all. He slapped Tagorn on the back.  
"Just wait, kid. Stick with us, we'll go places…"

***  
Over the next few days, the two of them certainly did. At first Tagorn was the distraction, luring nobles in with a fancy juggling act, while Aldj picked their pockets. The kid was a fast learner, however, and soon Aldj was the one having a fake fight with Criven while Tagorn swiftly lifted the purses of the rich. Despite Grace's hesitance, eventually even she couldn't deny the potential he had. It was time to take him on his first big heist. And what better location than the Thalmor Barracks…

Aldj peered over the roof of the building between him and the Barracks. From his perch in an old watchtower, he had full view of the target, as well as any sign of Thalmor troops. Speaking of….

He saw the Thalmor patrols leave he barracks for the night, out to ensure that no one was out past curfew. Leaving the Barracks undefended. Aldj flashed a small spark between his fingers, hoping that the others were watching for his signal.

Down in the sewers, a lone Argonian popped his head up and gave a brief flash of fire before dissipating back down. T'tholn was in position, and began the dark journey beneath the city.

The Argonian assassin was shadowy and unknown, but had been a solid friend of Aldj from day one. He would be their exit plan, once the target was robbed. Hopefully he would be prepared for when they would need him. Aldj heard the trapdoor open behind him, creaking on rusty hinges.  
"Are they in position?" Grace asked, crouching down next to him.  
Aldj leaned out of the tower, and was just able to see an arrow fly into the air. Tagorn and Criven were set.  
"They're good. Lets move" he replied.  
With a wave of her hands, Grace cast invisibility on both of them. Once his hands faded out of the visible spectrum, Aldj leapt off his tower. He arced gracefully through the air, before landing with a roll on the nearby inn. Moving quickly, he crouched on he edge of the guttering. Flicking the flames between his hands again, the next phase of the plan was signaled.

Aldj watched with satisfaction as two rope arrows hit with a resounding accuracy into an open window. As Grace finally caught up with him, he reached out and grabbed the rope, leaving her behind. Arm over arm, he hauled himself up the rope. He could feel Criven crawling up behind him, followed by Grace and Tagorn. If anyone were to look now they would see a rope held down by four apparently invisible bundles. It kind of defeated the point of being invisible, but if their plan was timed right no one would be watching now.

He reached out and grabbed the windowsill, pulling himself up into the most Thalmor controlled building in the city. And it was theirs to rob. Being the perfect gentleman he was, he turned and offered a hand to the struggling Grace, which she grudgingly accepted. Hauling the light elf up into the room, Aldj turned and examined his surroundings.

A sparsely decorated brick room. Small table, covered in various stationary. Small cupboard, likely filled with more random junk. Cheap rug on the floor. Unless they wanted to know what the Valenwood council signed over to the Thalmor this week, this room was useless. But it was also linked into more useful rooms, such as the one containing several thousand sovereigns worth in elven weaponry.

Silently stalking up to the door, Aldj gently poked it open a crack. Peering through it into the corridor, he caught the swish of a Thalmor cloak disappearing behind a corner. Which meant that the small patrol left in the building was check in downstairs now. Meaning they now had the upstairs to themselves. As Criven and Tagorn came in the window and pulled up the rope arrows behind them, Aldj carefully crouched down and crept out into the corridor. Calling up the floor plans he had memorised the night before, Aldj took a specific series of turns down the maze like corridors of the Thalmor barracks. But finally, as they turned a final corner, Aldj was faced with an imposing stone door, inlaid with a small lock.

"Right, Tagorn. Your turn." he instructed.  
Tagorn took a few hesitant steps forward, before kneeling down and inserting a thin pick and driving rod. He began to twitch and test the lock, searching for it's sweet point. Aldj, Grace and Criven stood awkwardly around him, waiting impatiently. Unfortunately, with an audible crack, the pick snapped. Tagorn let off a series of rapid fire elvish curses. Grace sighed melodramatically.  
"Well I hope T'tholn has our exit preped. We'll need it at this rate" she quipped sarcastically.  
Tagorn spared a moment to shoot her a withering glance before returning to his concentrated task. With another crack, Tagorn had to replace the pick. Aldj tapped his foot nervously.  
"Relax. T'tholn has his part ready, and Tagorn has his part set too. Right, Tagorn?"  
In answer, Tagorn clicked the lock home and swung the heavy door open. Treasure, at long last…

Standing behind it, dragonbone sword in hand and a smile on his face, was a Thalmor Justicar, in his full coat. He also seemed to have an eye patch. Behind him stood a small squad of Thalmor grunts, all of which crackled with magic.  
"Rhetson…" Tagorn snarled, his voice full of hate.  
The Justicar merely grinned all the wider.  
"Indeed. Bravo on the locks by the way, you weren't supposed to make it as far as you have."  
He gestured to the squad behind him.  
"Kill them, spare the boy" he ordered coolly.  
A dozen fireballs charged up in the hands of a team of elite killers.  
"Well shit." Aldj cursed.

A betrayer lurked in the group The odds were stacked against them.  
It was a good day to be a thief… 


	3. The Best Laid Plans

Everything hinged on what happened next…

"Well, shit." Aldj cursed.  
Grace's mind was already working the angles. Thalmor mages were trained to attack the leaders first. That was Aldj. And clearly their leader, Rhetson, had some kind of feud with Tagorn, judging by the way the two were having a staring contest. This left none of the guards on her for a brief window of time. It was all any half decent mage needed.

With a crackle of magica, she let loose with a torrent of flames. The Thalmor very quickly noticed her, and pulled up wards before the flames could cook them.  
"Get the mage!" Rhetson yelled.  
As a dozen fireballs began to converge on her position, she barely managed to pull up a ward to block. Or rather, would have blocked if the force of the many explosions didn't send her flying into the back wall.  
She crashed into a table, and felt something crack in her ribcage. What was more worrying was that her mage robe didn't automatically heal her. She was dry.  
Which was fine, because nobody took on elite Thalmor battle mages without a backup plan.  
Reaching into her satchel, she grabbed put a small glass vial. She nodded to Aldj, who took a worried step back. With a firm overarm hurl, she flung it into the crowd, before sprinting for the door. Still spinning, the vial hit the ground and cracked slightly.  
Then it exploded.  
A white light flooded the room, blinding the Thalmor who had watched the arc of the vial. Screaming out in pain, they hurled their spells at Grace. Or rather, where Grace would have been if she hadn't already changed directions and disappeared down a flight of stone stairs. Grace hoped that the others had been clever enough to run as well, otherwise the brief blinding would have gotten them too.  
"Spread out! Find them!" Rhetson yelled.  
Grace heard the clomping footsteps of the thugs spreading out through the building. No doubt the front door would be blocked, and the barracks would be blocked on all sides. Which was fine, because they never intended to leave any of those ways. All she had to do was get to the extraction point, and then be home free-  
A dreaded thought struck her. How had the Thalmor known they would be there? It had been an exclusive job, so none of the other small time thieves were in on it. They hadn't let slip to any outside party, or really, anyone outside the thieves guild. Which meant that they had the worst thing any organised crime squad could have.  
A snitch.

Who? Which of them would betray their closest friends and send them all to imminent doom? Grace couldn't even begin to think of any in her group who would do so. But the small, devious, plotting, Thalmor part of her was already running names. Aldj? Unlikely, he had put his whole life into this new guild, and the ones that came before it. Criven, then? They had only known him in person during this new guild phase. But he had an extensive reputation before they recruited him, the sort that a Thalmor can't fake. It was unlikely he had made the sudden choice to sell out to those who had permanently disfigured him.  
A loud thump drew Grace out of her thoughts. Ducking down behind a large barrel, she listened closely.  
It was the footsteps of a Thalmor, no mistake. The steel capped boots were enough to give anyone away. Without looking there was no way to know his weaponry, but based on the display upstairs she believed it to be minimal. They always preferred to rely on their magic. Not a trait she shared.

Silently drawing her dagger, grace prepared to strike. With a small wave of her hands she cast muffle on herself, and listened again. The footsteps were fading, he was walking away. He also had his back turned. Quickly stepping out from behind her cover, she began to stealthily sneak up behind the thug. Taking care to avoid the broken wine bottle on the ground, Grace drew right up behind him. The Thalmor barley had time to register the knife in his neck before it cut his spinal cord. He toppled to the ground.  
Grace quickly healed his wound to avoid it spilling blood on the ground, and hefted him over her shoulder. One body disposal in a wine barrel later, she was ready to get out.  
Now to find a toilet…

***  
The Thalmor had built almost nothing of their own. These barracks used to be a simple library, the forge that created their weapons of war used to only make crockery, and even the centre of their rule, the crystal spire, was not of their own make. So naturally, there were a lot of leftovers from their hostile occupation. One was the great sewer system, but there was another, even greater underground marvel. The great under rail.  
Created for use as an evacuation method, it had seen extensive use during the Oblivion Crisis. Since then, however, the kilometres long rail had fallen into disrepair. Not wanting a reminder of the time when the elves had been all but destroyed, the Thalmor had decided to let it rot. Another useful tool for those who lived outside the law. To add insult to injury, the Thalmor had turned many of the entrances into disgraces. The prison over one entry. The landfill over another. And it just so happened that the Thalmor barracks had been built over another, namely the toilet, which was her escape route. Let's just hope T'tholn was ready to get them out.  
Unless, of course, he was the traitor.  
The antisocial Argonian had always been secluded. And while Aldj apparently trusted him implicitly, he had also trusted a young Altmer spy into their old guild, which was the reason why they had had to move into their new base. Was T'tholn the next traitor?  
"Grace!" A voice whispered from behind her.  
The voice soon found they had a steel dagger at their throat.  
"Peace! I am of no harm." Criven hissed.  
Grace lowered the dagger. Slowly.  
"Where are the others?" she quietly asked.  
Criven indicated to the cellar door.  
"Aldj informed me he would meet us there. T'tholn will be waiting with our exit."  
Too many potential traitors. If the entire issue between Tagorn and Rhetson was nothing more than a sham to divert attention, their newest member could be their last. If T'tholn was their betrayer then their only shot at escape could be a one way trip to a Thalmor torture cell. Or, of course, a Criven could be lying to her now. 'Trust nobody', her inner voice told her, and for once she was inclined to agree. "We split up. You go in this entrance, I'll go in another way. To avoid the chance of detection." she informed him.  
It was a shoddy excuse. Criven could see right through it, could see he didn't trust her. 'Good.' Said her inner voice. 'Trust nobody until we escape'.  
While Criven opened the door and began to stealth off into the cellar, Grace went in the opposite direction and into a small, narrow corridor. As she crept along the narrow halls, Grace was on constant lookout. Wherever the other were there had been no sounds indicating capture yet, so they were still out there. Which of course also meant that the guards were still looking for them too. CRASH!  
Silently cursing her bad luck, Grace leered around the corner to see what the noise was.  
Of course it was Tagorn.

The moron had clearly tried to get a sneak attack on a guard. Logically, he should have stabbed him in the neck or slit his throat, but Tagorn clearly thought he just 'had' to do better. He'd tried to use a sword decapitation style, like the heroes from stories used to do. Unfortunately for Tagorn, things rarely worked in real life as they did in fiction.

The sword had only penetrated halfway through the neck, spurting blood all over a horrified looking Tagorn. The heavily wounded guard had flopped to the ground in agony, shattering a highly valuable pot. Which was annoying, because if she had heard it it was likely all the other guards in the area had too.

"Moron!" Grace hissed.  
Grabbing him by the arm, she dragged him down a side hall. The sounds of heavy boots were already thumping down the hallway, and once they saw the dead body even a Thalmor could put two and two together. Tagorn stumbled along in a sort of daze, clearly still in shock over the particularly bloody death of the guard. Grace spun around and slapped him. Hard.

"Wake up! You've compromised stealth, don't comprise escape!"  
Shaking Tagorn a bit for good measure, she continued down the hall, away from the rapidly approaching capture. Tagorn shivered slightly, before continuing on behind her.

Not far behind the them, Grace heard the outraged cries of the other guards. So they had found Tagorn's little screw up… there was no time to lose. They had to get to the exit or die trying, find out who among them was a traitor, and ensure one idiot new guy didn't kill himself.  
But no pressure.

It was only a few short minutes later that they were at their destination. There had been a few close calls, and one emergency arrow to the heart, but aside from that they had been thus far undetected. Now, if their luck could just hold for a few more moments, then they would be fine. I mean, the toilet maintenance hatch was right there. All they had to do was crawl down and get out. Now if this were a story from one of Tagorn's books, then they would have been caught by Rhetson here, or the traitor would reveal himself. But Grace had learned long ago that her life was not a story, so they escaped with ease.

Conjuring flames in her left hand, Grace lit the way along the dank tunnels. Decades worth of Skeever crap lined the floor, but at least those responsible for it weren't around. Hopefully. Tagorn, having gotten over his apparent death phobia, had an arrow notched in his hunting bow, and looked set to use it if anything live walked in front of him. Grace, still not certain that he wasn't the spy, kept a cautious distance behind him. Never know when a notched arrow could become a drawn arrow and then a flying arrow. The last little protégé Aldj brought in had proved that.

Rounding yet another of the endless tunnels, Grace hoped that the information T'tholn had provided was accurate, because this was not a place she wanted to be lost in. If the map was right, she thought, the exit should be just….  
Here, she thought, rounding a corner.  
And there it was, a simple iron barred ladder leading up to a manhole cover. Freedom, at long last.  
"Grace!" a voice from the shadows whispered.  
Things could never just be simple, could they?

Tagorn already had an arrow drawn and pointed at the shadows behind the ladder.  
"Cautious! It is just me, Tagorn." Criven scowled.  
Tagorn immediately slacked his bow, glad of how he didn't have to shoot anyone.

"Criven?! What the hell are you doing here?" she hissed.  
Criven shrugged his mighty shoulders.  
"I made it here first, and decided to wait for the others. Now that you are here, we should wait for Aldj."  
Grace sighed exhaustedly.  
"Criven, we went over the plan already. We were supposed to split and meet up at base. By staying here, you increase chances of being found, and-"  
Grace immediately shut up and spun around, just in time to block an invisible dagger from slitting Tagorn's throat. "Watch out!" She shrieked.  
Tagorn clumsily stabbed at the air behind him. His blade hit nothing, but the assailant had to dodge and smacked into Grace. She grabbed him and threw the invisible shape down, before forcing her knees down on it, trapping it on the floor. "Let's see who you are…" she threatened.  
Sending a pulse of Magica into the invisible assassin, she reversed the invisibility spell laid on him, revealing…

"Let me go Grace! HE'S the traitor!"  
Pinned under Grace's knees was none other than T'tholn.

"Bastard!" Grace growled.  
She reached into a sheath and brought out her knife, ready to bring it down on T'tholn.  
"Grace! Stop and bloody think! Tagorn. Has. Betrayed. Us." he yelled.

His tone struck Grace, and she paused mid-swing. He took this as indication to continue.  
"This isn't exactly the first time is it? Aldj brings in some bright young lad, too good to be true, brilliant thief. We all knows how this ends." he explained.  
Grace maintained her grip.

"I heard their commander talking! He told the guards to kill us but take him- " he jabbed a clawed finger a Tagorn. "Alive! To not harm him! They're working together!" He tried once again to get up, and this time Grace let him. "Come on, Grace. I've known you since before the guild. Why would I do this?" he begged.  
Power. Money. Freedom. The Thalmor part of her brain spat these ideas at her, as to why the Argonian in front of her was guilty. But this was why she never listened to her Thalmor thoughts.  
"Grace! Look, I know you hate me me but I'm no traitor! Rhetson killed my entire family, why would I work with-

"Shut up." Grace growled.  
The fire in her hand had grown to an almost raging inferno, set to smite whoever would dare to betray them.  
"Grace. Please." T'tholn whispered.  
Grace quenched her fireball.  
"Thanks for that." Criven laughed.  
Then, faster than anyone could react, he sent a conjured arrow straight into the Argonian's temple.

T'tholn was dead before he hit the ground.

"I have go say, it was quite handy the lizard showed up. I hadn't the slightest clue how I was going to get you to wait around long enough." He laughed.  
He waved a hand at the tunnel behind them.  
"You can come out now." Criven ordered.  
Twelve armed Thalmor neutralised their invisibility, destruction spells already charged in their hands. Rhetson was at the front of them, his dragonbone sword glinting in the light of the fire curled in his other hand.

"W… why the hell Criven?!" Grace yelled.  
Criven shrugged.  
"Weeeell, technically Criven didn't betray you "  
His form shimmered, and the voice changed to a higher pitch.  
"In fact, you never even met Criven." The illusion spell faded away, revealing a Dark Elf female wearing very little. Her head was bald, and her skin black as the night. Grace knew her from the stories told by survivors from Thalmor raids. A dark form, sometimes invisible, sometimes visible, but never taking her true shape. A woman who went by only the name that she chose, or stole.  
"Phantom." Grace breathed.  
Phantom giggled. It was a high pitched tittering sound, the sort of noise that should come from a child, not one of the most deadly infiltrators in the Thalmor army.

"It was really too easy. One day, Criven slipped up, and we got him. But rather than just kill him…" Phantom began.  
Rhetson stepped forward.  
"We replaced him. Ever wonder how we found out about the Black market? The under dome? Even my little spy last year was just an excuse to bust your old base. By replacing one man, we have gathered more Intel on the underworld than our entire surveillance division " he finished proudly.  
Phantom summoned a bound sword.  
"But this is it. You were at the end of your usefulness anyway, but when you took in Tagorn, you needed to go."  
Phantom stretched her arms theatricality.  
"Personally I hope you try to run. Its been awhile since I've had a fight in my normal body." she purred.

"Well, I'd hate to disappoint a lady." Aldj called out from behind them.  
Spinning around in shock, the Guards got a fire arrow to the face for their trouble. Aldj was here.

Tagorn followed by sending an arrow straight at Rhetson, but it was easily batted aside by his Ward. Phantom had already turned herself invisible, and was nowhere to be seen. Grace noticed she still had her dagger from when she had had T'tholn pinned, and threw it at a stray Thalmor. While he was still going down, Grace crackled some sparks up and threw herself into the crowd.

It was chaos. Not even the Thalmor could see what they were aiming at, and some even attacked each other. Aldj continued to rain down fire filled arrows on the crowd, setting some on fire. No matter how hard they tried, the Thalmor could never manage to hit Aldj, who ducked and dodge rolled like a hero from the tales, untouchable. Grace sent her lightning into an already burning guard, finishing him off.

Tagorn was still focused solely on Rhetson, screaming curses at him while firing arrow after arrow at him. Rhetson was easily deflecting them, laughing and occasionally launching a fireball back do keep him on his toes. It seemed like Rhetson was playing with him, meaning Tagorn was in no immediate danger. A swinging sword reminded her that she was.

Ducking the blade, she grabbed hold of her attackers leg and let lose with sparks. The Thalmor spasmed so hard he accidentally stabbed one of his friends, before collapsing dead. Grace rolled away from the newly felled corpse before coming across a discarded sword. Taking it up in her hand, she swung it in a wide arc, catching the Thalmor off guard and cutting one of their legs. Howling with rage and pain, her opponent drew his own sword and moved close for combat.

The first swing was clumsy, inaccurate. It showed his inexperience with a sword. Like all Thalmor, he though he could last on his magic alone. Grace responded with a firm stab to the body, penetrating the coat and drawing blood. With a great thrust, Grace drove the sword hilt deep into the Thalmor, killing him. Quickly moving away before anybody could get a clear shot on her, she formed an ice spike in her palm and prepared to send it into the skull of a Thalmor getting close to hitting Aldj. Before she could, an arrow flew past her ear and hit a Mage who had been about to fry her with ignite. Turning, she saw Tagorn had shot it.  
"Thanks!" she called back.  
Tagorn took a breath from swearing bloody murder at Rhetson, who was still content to just block arrows.  
"I missed Rhetson!" he shouted in response. Rolling her eyes, she hit her target with an ice spike, splattering his head over the celling.

Aldj pulled back another arrow, and fires it into a the last Thalmor. Pulling out the last arrow in his quiver, he aimed it squarely at Rhetson. Tagorn, who was fully out of arrows, grabbed a random steel blade and advances menacingly. Grace maintained cautious distance, waiting to see why Rhetson hadn't attacked yet.  
"Well? Why have you not shot him yet?" Tagorn demanded.  
Grace glanced at Aldj, who seemed to consider this himself. Why not shoot the bastard? Aldj drew his bow taut to fire.  
"I wouldn't, if I were you." Rhetson murmured.  
Aldj paused.  
"Why not?"  
Rhetson revealed his two palms were glowing with fire.  
"Because this is a master level destruction spell."  
Rhetson unleashed fire storm.

The moment seemed to play out in slow motion for Grace. Rhetson snapped his fingers, and the ground around him immediately was alight. Then it spread, a fire shockwave blasting at them. Aldj had launched an arrow, but it was swatted aside by the wave of hot air preceding the fire. Grace pulled up a ward, a futile defence against such a powerful assault, and braced.

She was thrown backwards, her ward almost instantly shattered. Completing an almost full flip, she smacked hard against the wall, and heard her ribs shatter like twigs. The flames were the least dangerous part of the attack, harmlessly washing over her flame resistant robe. The inferno shot right up the walls, before quickly dying out. She was still alive.

Her healing kicked in, her good old robe that had saved her hundreds of times taking magica from her to automatically heal her. She felt her ribs righten themselves, the burns on exposed skin heal up, and gradually her vision stopped spinning. She looked up, only to see the most amazing sight.

Tagorn, seemingly unaffected by the attack, leapt forward at the winded Rhetson. Clearly not expecting the attack, Rhetson had not time to even bring up a ward as Tagorn swung his stolen blade with inexperienced fury. It slashed Rhetson, drawing blood. Not fatal, but if he could follow it up…  
Tagorn blinked, clearly shocked that had worked. Idiot. Rhetson, snarling from the pain, brought his own sword around at Tagorn.

Showing at least some wit, Tagorn brought his sword up in a block. Rhetson powered through it, knocking the blade out of Tagorn's hands. This defiant rebellion was going to be very short lived. But then Grace saw, staggering up from the ground, Aldj stood.

With a roar, he threw himself at Rhetson, tackling him to the ground. He was wildly punching and kicking, delirious from the pain of his burns, but doing damage all the same. Grace stood up herself, healed well enough to walk, and ran to help him. Rhetson, yelling in a fit of rage, threw Aldj off him and turned to face Tagorn. "RUN! RUN YOU MORON!" Aldj screamed.  
Tagorn quickly turned tail and ran for the ladder.  
"NO! You don't get away this time!" Rhetson snarled.  
He began to charge up a spell.

Grace ran forward, sword in hand, but was too late. Rhetson fired of a dull grey projectile at Tagorn. It flew through the air at a relatively slow speed for a spell, before hitting him in the thigh.  
Tagorn dropped like he'd been burned. He hit the bottom of the ladder with a solid whack, and lay there curled in a ball. Grace reached Rhetson and swung her blade at him, but he easily deflected it with his own dragonbone blade. Unlike the other Thalmor, his technique demonstrated years of practice and skill. Grace was outmatched both in swords and sorcery.

But once again, Aldj came in. Having taken a moment to heal his wounds, he attacked with renowned vigour, stabbing with his dagger fast and accurately. Aldj rolled under a wild swing from Rhetson, and retaliated with a stab to the leg. It didn't seem to slow Rhetson down at all, and Grace realised his cloak was like her own, it self healed injuries. "Run, Grace! Get Tagorn the hell out of here!" Aldj bellowed.

Grace sprinted over to where Tagorn lay. He was cold and shivering, despite the relatively warm temperature left from the fire storm. Clearly in no form to move himself, Grace hefted him over her shoulder. Despite being quite light in frame, adrenaline can cause anybody to work wonders, and she leapt up the ladder two rungs at a time.

"You can't escape again!" Rhetson screamed, charging an ice spike to hit Grace with. With no time to lose, Grace threw the manhole open and hauled herself up, evidently just missing her. Unceremoniously dumping Tagorn in the alleyway they had come up in, Grace looked back down the manhole to see how Aldj was doing. "Aldj! Get the hell up here-"  
She fell silent.

Aldj stood, pinned to the ladder through the chest by an ice spike meant for her. Blood was already seeping out of the gaping wound, turning the ice a blood red. "GOD DAMMIT!" Grace screamed. Rhetson viciously yanked Aldj off the ladder, his one-eyed face twisted into a victorious smirk. Grace slammed the manhole down and blasted it shut with fire.

Shit… Shit… SHIT! Grace fell back onto the dank cobbles, furious with Rhetson, The Phantom, Aldj…  
But mostly herself.  
After a few seconds of wallowing in depression, Grace sat back up. She could not die here. More Thalmor were doubtless on the way. If she died here, everything Aldj had done for her would mean nothing. She could mourn Aldj later, right now she had to get her and Tagorn to safety.  
Tears still stinging the corners of her eyes, Grace grabbed Tagorn and disappeared into the night.

Rhetson spat a few curses in old elvish before summoning a mage light.  
"Come out, Phantom. I know you are still here." he growled.  
In the corner of the room, Phantom winked into the visible spectrum.  
"You called, my lord?" she tinkled in a mocking tone.  
Rhetson snarled.  
"Don't take that tone. You ALLOWED those enemies of state to escape. You've just made my job much, much harder."  
Phantom gave a mocking laugh.  
"Oh, but my lord" she gasped. "I most certainly remember you telling me to:" her form flickered into that of Rhetson's own. "Stag out of the way and let me deal with them!" she mimicked in his voice.

Rhetson ground his teeth. Unfortunately, he had given that order, though he had not expected there to be any chance of their escape. In fact, if it hadn't been for that idiotic Dumner thief… he shot a dark look at the body.  
"Oh, don't be like that. I saw what you did, hitting the boy with a tracking curse. Just follow that trail, and you can get your petty little revenge". Phantom pouted.  
Rhetson ground his teeth.  
"The 'boy' has permanently blinded me in one eye. It is not 'petty'" he spat.  
Phantom shrugged and slunk out. Rhetson paused, before removing his mage light. For this, he would need total concentration.

Rhetson reached out, feeling for marks. He felt others- the ones he had on past victims, the one he had on Phantom at all times. But one was remaining stubborn…  
Someone was trying to block him. It had to be the thief mage that had tried to defy him. No matter, not even she could hold out against h for long. Breaking through her primitive barrier, he finally found what he was looking for. Tagorn….

Grace had tried.  
She had felt the presence, the spectral force trying to get in. Best she could, she had defended from it. But it had not been enough. Just like with T'tholn. Just like Aldj. Whatever spell Rhetson had used was likely to be a tracker. If so, Tagorn was a security risk and should be abandoned before he compromised her last base left secret from anyone. She had very little time before they found her anyway.

The cistern was no doubt swarming with Thalmor. Her entire lab would be lost. Everything holding her in this city, all her friends, possessions and family had been lost. Not for the first time, she considered leaving the city. Go someplace nice and simple to raid, where there were proper thieves guilds with a proper targets, like Cyrodill or Morrowind. Some place like that. But one look at the hospital bed reminded her why she needed to stay, even for just a little longer.

Tagorn had not woken since Rhetson had struck him. Occasionally he murmured quietly, but apart from that he just lay comatose. Grace had tried everything she could in the hours since they had come back from the disastrous heist, but nothing had worked. All she could do was wait, and hope he awoke before Rhetson could pinpoint him here.

Just as Grace began to nod off to sleep, Tagorn suddenly sat bolt upright. "He's coming." he gasped.  
Grace did not need to know who Tagorn meant. Helping him onto his feet, she led him into the ramshackle kitchen and offered him a mug of water. He drank thirstily.

Not waiting until he was done, Grace reached into a safe box and grabbed a map, plus a key ring with one key on it. This hideout was one of many she had kept hidden from the rest of the guild in case of such an event, and as such had many exit plans. She would be taking the exit to Morrowind plan, while Tagorn would be going somewhere very different..

"This key will unlock one of the many hidden doors out of the city. It's hidden down in the docks, ask someone named Kira to shown you where exactly." She passed him the key, which he takes into a pocket.  
"And where does the map lead?" Tagorn questioned.  
Grace stood up from her chair.  
"Rhetson, as I'm sure you have guessed, has put a tracking spell on you. He will be always able to tell where you are, anywhere, at all times."  
She noticed the saddened look on his face.  
"It's not all bad. The spell has two main weaknesses: One, due to the fact your souls are now connected, you should be able to tell when he's close. Secondly- " she unfolded the map.

"The accuracy of the tracking decreases with distance. So you need to go far away from here. Somewhere the Thalmor have little foothold in. Where you can find one of the last great mage schools…"  
She gestured to the map, split into many segments and areas. There were rolling mountains, deep oceans and grassy plains. Tagorn saw the highest mountain, and the lowest cave depths. Something deep within him, some part that had long slumbered, saw this land and called to it.

"You need to go to Skyrim."

A vengeful force gave chance to his quarry.  
Forces long since beyond Nirn began to once again stir.  
A rebellious force, a mighty army and lone traveler were bound by destiny to collide.

Everything depended. on what happened next.… 


End file.
